Bloodline (Cradle Book 9) Read online

  All the while, Lindon hammered him against the floor over and over.

  It didn’t resemble anything like an honorable sacred artist’s duel. There was no dignity and no possibility of escape. Only when Daji was bloody, broken, and whimpering did Lindon let the Hollow Domain die and drop the prince one final time.

  Everyone watched Daji land on the ground with a smack, where he curled in on himself with a sound like a cross between a scream and a groan.

  Lindon knelt beside him, speaking quietly. “I tried to leave you alone.”

  Almost gently, he pulled the prince up from the ground by his collar. Daji sputtered and spat out blood.

  “I know this was just you. Meira and your father…they’re smarter than this. I don’t think a Monarch would have approached them. Am I right?”

  Daji burbled incoherently, his eyes spinning in their sockets to come to rest on Lindon. They were surprisingly lucid.

  “You deserve to die. You know that. But they don’t, do they?”

  For a moment, the anger and the pain cleared from Daji’s eyes. For the first time, Lindon saw something human in them.

  Very slightly, the prince of the Seishen Kingdom shook his head.

  Lindon rose to his feet as Mercy, rather unnecessarily, announced victory. Seishen Daji was dragged off into the shadows, and Lindon remembered Orthos’ words from long ago: “The Akura do not kill honorably. They take prisoners.”

  “I believe him,” Lindon said to Mercy.

  “Y-yeah…” Mercy said. She sounded like she was trying to encourage him.

  “I know his confession won’t make a difference.” It wasn’t as though a single shake of the head after a brutal beating counted as proof. Even the ‘duel’ had just been another way of punishing Daji within the Akura clan’s rules, not a way of obtaining evidence.

  But Lindon did believe him.

  “I’ll ask them to take it easy,” Mercy promised.

  Charity slipped up beside them. “We will take it easy on everyone but Daji. Unless we find evidence of collusion. How did you feel about your arbitration, Mercy?”

  “Terrible.”

  Lindon gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder, but he was already turning to leave. “I have to prepare. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Where are you…no, it doesn’t matter. I have to stay with Pride. I’ll see you tonight!”

  Charity’s eyes narrowed on him. “You know not to leave the city, don’t you?”

  “Of course, Charity. Thank you for your concern.”

  It felt almost painful to call a Sage by her given name, but she only nodded before vanishing with Mercy.

  Lindon rubbed at the blood on his fist as he walked through the artificial veil of shadow. Dross projected images of what the room had looked like before, so he strode through like the darkness was only a thin mist. His mental map would be accurate, assuming no furniture had been added that Dross didn’t know about.

  [Not to cast doubt on my own predictions, but I thought you were going to kill him.]

  I wanted to, Lindon admitted. It had been a struggle to hold himself back from crushing Daji into a ball. He wasn’t proud of that, but he couldn’t pretend that Daji hadn’t earned it.

  [Why…ah, if you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you?]

  Lindon stretched out his newfound Sage’s senses, feeling the tear in space where the Akura servants had slipped through a temporary portal. They had dragged the prisoners somewhere immediately, possibly Moongrave, where no one could interrupt them. Where Seishen Daji couldn’t be saved, even by Reigan Shen.

  Lindon responded silently to Dross.

  My name isn’t Mercy.

  Uncle Fury’s ascension ceremony should have been held in the main house, in a hall dedicated for that purpose. Mercy had heard of several family members who had ascended, but never in her lifetime. As far as she knew.

  But most of the important members of the Akura clan had come here to Ninecloud City for the Uncrowned King tournament, and it would cost far too much to send everyone to Moongrave. Perhaps her mother could have done it, but she hadn’t shown herself since the Monarch-level battle that had devastated the surrounding countryside.

  Not even for her own son leaving the world.

  Mercy had to admit that she couldn’t know what kind of contact Uncle Fury and her mother had shared after his ascension to Monarch. Maybe they had enjoyed a heartfelt mother-and-son moment that she wasn’t privy to.

  It wasn’t likely, but she could dream.

  All the most critical members of the Akura clan gathered in a wide basement beneath their amethyst tower. The gathering had the atmosphere of a party, with the members who were leaving alongside Fury mingling and saying their good-byes while servants drifted around with trays of drinks and snacks.

  Uncle Fury, his wife Naria, and many of their children would be leaving together. Their youngest were eight and twelve years old, while their oldest were white-haired and bent. Many of their children were staying; some were too critical to the function of the clan, like Aunt Charity, while others simply didn’t want to leave.

  A few of Fury’s descendants had ascended already, many years before, though of course none had done so by reaching Monarch.

  In addition to immediate relatives, several distant families under Fury’s branch were coming along with him, as well as a retinue of servants and attendants. All told, about two hundred people were joining the newest Monarch in his ascension.

  Some of them had not been here from the Uncrowned King tournament, but had been summoned by Aunt Charity and Uncle Fury at great expense.

  Mercy milled around herself, saying good-byes and shedding her share of tears. She hadn’t been especially close to any of those leaving except Aunt Naria, but these were still people she knew. Her family.

  In a way, it was like they were dying.

  She swiped her eyes as she emerged from a gaggle of her nieces and nephews—many of whom were decades older than she was—to see Lindon and Yerin arrive.

  They were immediately mobbed by her relatives.

  The sight warmed her heart. It hadn’t been long since the Akura clan had looked down on Lindon and Yerin, and would have approached them only out of necessity or as part of a scheme.

  Now, they were tripping over themselves to make a good impression.

  Her friends had shown their worth. To everyone.

  Lindon loomed over everyone else, and the look of discomfort on his face made him look more like he had before his advancement to Underlord: as though he was searching for something to punch. Unfortunately for him, as a Lord he was handsome enough to take the edge off, so his new admirers would take his expression to be stern and regal.

  Yerin looked more at ease than Lindon, shoving through her much-larger crowd and cornering a servant holding a tray of tiny dumplings. She seized a pair for herself, then—when she saw that Lindon was still pinned by Akura clan members—reached in and pulled him out by the hand.

  After he let himself be hauled to freedom, he didn’t release her hand right away.

  That sight made Mercy slow for a moment. She couldn’t put a name to what she felt. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly. At least, she didn’t think so. Maybe envy.

  She had never had many friends in the Akura clan. She considered herself a friend to almost everyone, but very few felt that way about her. From the moment she was chosen by the Book of Eternal Night, she was apart from the rest of them. Separate. A target of alliance for the ambitious, or a rival to be overcome, or perhaps even someone to be feared.

  Despite only having known them a couple of years, she thought of Lindon and Yerin as her closest friends. And they were getting closer to each other, one step at a time.

  Leaving her alone.

  Yerin saw Mercy and brightened. It was still a shock to see Yerin with eyes that resembled Uncle Fury’s, but Mercy waved cheerily. Yerin came over to meet her in a moment, still holding Lindon’s hand.

  The surrounding Aku
ras backed off to give them some space.

  “Your family’s a touch friendlier than before,” Yerin remarked, popping a miniature dumpling into her mouth whole. “Wonder why.”

  Lindon finally slipped his hand from Yerin’s, sliding it into the pocket of his outer robe instead. “I know why they want to talk to you, but I’m not sure what they want from me.”

  “You did fantastic in the tournament!” Mercy assured him. But because she knew what he meant, she continued. “Some of them know about your performance in Sky’s Edge, and the smarter ones may have heard about what…showed up in the sky.”

  Mercy couldn’t believe it herself, though she had seen Lindon toy with Sophara, and she’d even witnessed the black hole that covered the clouds. Charity had explained it to her. A little.

  Lindon was a Sage now.

  Mercy still wasn’t quite sure how that was possible.

  Lindon looked relieved. “Gratitude. I was worried it was something…else.”

  Mercy wracked her brain, but couldn’t imagine what he was talking about. “What else could it possibly be?”

  “Apologies, I don’t mean to speak ill of your family. I thought perhaps they were using me to get closer to Yerin, or trying to get revenge because I overshadowed them, or they wanted to blackmail me to force me to fight for them.”

  “Of course not!” Mercy exclaimed. Did her family really have that bad of a reputation in Lindon’s eyes?

  Yerin and Lindon looked at each other, exchanging a look between them that once again made Mercy feel left out.

  “Truly, I do apologize, but…they’ve done all of those things.”

  Mercy shut her mouth. They were right. Now that she thought of it, she didn’t know why she’d bothered to defend her relatives in the first place.

  She had never liked the way her family handled things. They twisted themselves in knots to appease those stronger, and expected the same from those beneath them. They never associated with the weak unless they stood to gain something.

  It wasn’t as though she really thought her family was better than that, she just…wanted them to be.

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  The emotions she’d been feeling before—sorrow at the loss of her family members—came back in full force and blended with her guilt. With Uncle Fury and his immediate family leaving, there were even fewer good people left in the Akura clan.

  Not that Fury didn’t have his share of issues. The legends of certain cultures regarded him as a monster.

  Maybe there were no good people in her family.

  The air around her began to literally darken as her shadow madra leaked out, reflecting her gloom.

  Yerin rapped her on the top of the head with one knuckle.

  She hadn’t struck particularly hard, and Mercy’s Overlord-level body was resilient. Even so, the impact hurt.

  Mercy clapped one black-clad hand to the injury, but Yerin didn’t look the least bit sympathetic. “You can cut that off right now. You know we’re not putting anything they did on your account.”

  Mercy blinked rapidly and took deep breaths to get ahold of herself. It had been a long few days.

  Before she could thank Yerin, Uncle Fury emerged from the crowd, looming over most everyone—though not Lindon—and beaming ear to ear.

  He strode confidently up to Yerin, and to Mercy’s horror, he had his right hand cocked back and gathering madra. It looked like he was about to attack.

  Yerin pushed past Mercy, her own right hand drawn back.

  Mercy’s horror choked her, but disbelief prevented her from moving. Someone should stop this. She should stop this. What was—

  The palms of the Herald and the Monarch cracked together in an explosion that left some of the nearby crowd stumbling back. The wind snatched at formal robes and shoved snacks off platters.

  Yerin and Uncle Fury clasped hands, Fury grinning and Yerin wearing a similar expression.

  “I’m so jealous,” Fury said. “What did it feel like, killing a Monarch?”

  Yerin snorted. “Didn’t get him in a fight, did I? About like swatting a fly.”

  Uncle Fury closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through the nose as though savoring a scent. “Like swatting a fly…oh, it’s beautiful. It’s better than I ever imagined. The King of Dragons, swatted by a child. Like a fly.”

  He took another deep breath. “Perfect.”

  “Half-certain I’m the one who’s meant to be jealous.” After a deliberate pause, she added, “Monarch.”

  “You kidding me? Who am I going to get to fight me now?”

  Lindon answered that one. “Heavenly warriors, I would guess.”

  Red eyes lit up, and Fury released Yerin’s hand at last. “That’s the idea!” He put fists on his hips, facing Lindon. “I’ve had somebody take care of your points. The rest of your team got to make their own choices from what we had left. I’d give you something myself, but I hear Charity’s taking care of it.”

  Lindon forced a smile in return. “Gratitude. What about the ones we lost?”

  That was enough to darken Mercy’s mood again. She had seen Grace die, and Douji as well. She hadn’t personally witnessed Courage fall, but she felt it.

  “They were all clan members, and we take care of—Oh, hey, look at that!” He raised a hand and beckoned to someone in the crowd.

  A moment later, a purple-eyed man and woman emerged. They looked to be in their mid-forties, but their faces were weathered and haggard as though they hadn’t slept in days.

  Mercy’s throat tightened.

  “Akura Earnest and Kiya,” Uncle Fury said. “Grace’s parents. They’re coming with me tonight, but they wanted to meet you first.”

  Akura Grace had been the pride of her immediate family, skilled as she was among her generation. She was supposed to raise her parents up to further prestige within the clan.

  Now she was gone.

  Mercy hadn’t seen Earnest or Kiya since their daughter’s death. She’d been with Pride, and there had been too much going on.

  Lindon looked like he wanted to bolt. He bowed as deeply to them as he had to Aunt Charity earlier. “This one cannot express his regret. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

  Grace’s mother laid a hand on Lindon’s arm. “For what?”

  He straightened cautiously.

  “You avenged our daughter,” Earnest said. He bowed at the waist. “She was a warrior, and an Underlady, and prepared to die. Still…please accept our thanks.”

  He pressed a purse into Lindon’s hands.

  The pouch of scripted purple cloth wasn’t nearly as high-quality of an item as a void key, but it was still made by Charity to compress Forged madra. Indeed, Mercy could sense the power of at least a dozen types of scales coming from within.

  They were leaving this world behind, and they had no other children, so Mercy wouldn’t be surprised if they had left their entire fortune in that purse. They would have wracked their brains for a gift worthy of Lindon. It wouldn’t be unheard-of, to leave such a reward to someone who had avenged a loved one.

  Mercy knew Lindon well enough to see that he was struggling with himself. He looked as though he wanted to turn this down, because he thought he didn’t deserve it.

  But his hands moved without him, and he tucked the pouch into his pocket before they could change their minds and take it back.

  “Gratitude,” Lindon said, dipping his head over a salute. “I don’t know how to properly express my condolences, other than to wish you well as you journey onward.”

  Fury clapped Earnest on the shoulder. “Take it easy if you need to. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  Grace’s parents saluted Lindon in return, bowed to Fury, and then drifted away.

  Once they had left, Uncle Fury watched their backs and spoke with unusual gentleness. “Time doesn’t heal everything, but it does help. Never gets easy, though.”

  Yerin looked up at him. “Is it good for them, going with
you? Could be like losing everybody at the same time.”

  Fury shrugged. “I think it’ll help. They’ll have a new purpose, and a lot of their closer relatives are coming too. But they wanted to come, and I’m not telling them no.” He turned back to Lindon and Yerin. “It’s too bad you’re not coming up yet. Never did get a chance to fight you.”

  “Apologies, but I don’t think we would make worthy opponents.”

  “Well, yeah. Otherwise I’d be fighting you right now. But hey, I can wait a few years.” He gave them a cheery wave and started to walk backwards into the crowd. “See you on the other side, you two! Mercy, you want to give me a hand?”

  Uncle Fury didn’t need her help. He just wanted to talk.

  “Just a second,” she said to Lindon and Yerin, and then she hurried after her uncle. Well, her half-brother.

  He spun around, walking forward with both hands laced behind his neck. People to either side had to duck his outstretched elbows, but most of the attendees here were advanced sacred artists. They managed.

  “Thought we ought to talk about you before I’m out of here. The three stars of the clan are down to two, now. I suspect we’ll end up stronger than ever in the long run, now that the snake isn’t around anymore, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have a weak point for a couple years.”

  Mercy straightened as she walked. “I’m ready to accept my responsibility.”

  “…yeah, I thought so. The family will expect a lot from you when I’m gone. They want you to fulfill your duty to the family, and they all have their own ideas for what that looks like.”

  This was strange. Uncle Fury was known for shirking any duty he could if it didn’t involve advancement or combat.

  “It’s all a trap,” he continued. “Don’t get caught in it.”

  That sounded a lot more like Fury.

  “At some point, you have to start leading.” He grinned down on her and ruffled her hair. “Good luck.”

  She had thought of many things to say, but in the end, only one mattered: “Good-bye, Uncle Fury.”